The Journey Home
by piratewench78
Summary: Rayna makes a last minute decision not to marry Luke Wheeler. And then she makes another decision that could change the rest of her life. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I was looking through my files for something else and happened upon the beginning of a story that I had completely forgotten about. I had written this back in October 2014 and it was likely based on some spoilers that were out at the time. I have no idea what my original intent was for the story or why I never finished it, but when I read what I had I couldn't leave it alone and decided to finish it. So this is an AU story about the aftermath of Rayna leaving Luke at the altar. Hope you enjoy.**_

 _On and on the road is long / But even though the sun feels gone / We can find the light_

 _Make the change / Break the chain / We're all the same / We're all the same / In love_

Deacon was upstairs working in his guitar room when he heard loud knocking on the door. He frowned as he stopped what he was doing. He heard the sliding glass doors open. Then he heard a woman's voice calling his name. He felt his heart clench. It was Rayna.

He got up and started down the hall to the stairs. He looked at the clock and saw that it was a little after one in the afternoon. Rayna was supposed to get married today, to Luke Wheeler. High noon, as he recalled from all the press coverage and Maddie's annoyed commentary. That was why he'd left Nashville, immediately after the end of Luke Wheeler's tour, and headed for the cabin for the weekend. Maddie was going to be at the wedding, under duress, but she was still going to be there, so he hadn't wanted to stay in town and listen to all the buzz about the biggest country superstar wedding since Blake and Miranda. It had been a little ironic that he was opening for Luke and he'd been anxious to get away from that as well as Luke's often pointed comments about his upcoming nuptials. _Why is she here?_

He walked out into the great room and saw her standing at the doors, a coat over her white wedding dress, her hair all styled up, although it looked a little worse for wear right then. As he got closer, he could see that she was crying and her makeup was streaked on her face. He scowled as he got closer.

"What are you doing here, Rayna?" he asked tersely.

She whirled around, sadness on her face and her hands clasped together in front of her. He realized she wasn't wearing that hideous monstrosity of an engagement ring. "I couldn't do it," she wailed. "I couldn't do it. What was I thinking?" She walked over to him and grabbed his arm.

He frowned and pulled away from her, backing up. He could see the confusion on her face. "What are you doing here, Rayna?" he repeated.

She took a deep breath. "I made a mistake. I should never have agreed to marry Luke. It was all a mistake. I was just scared to take a chance."

Deacon shook his head with a rueful smile on his face. "It's a little late to be deciding that, don't you think?" he asked.

Rayna looked around, a guilty look on her face. "Are you here with someone?" she asked, her voice low.

Deacon scowled. "No, I ain't. But if you came here, thinking you could just tell me you made a mistake, that you were scared, that you want me back, well, it's kinda too late for that." He shook his head again. "I ain't gonna be here every time you decide you're ready, Rayna. I ain't waiting around for you anymore. If you made a wrong choice, you just gotta live with it. If you're not marrying Luke, I think that's a good decision, for you and for the girls. But I'm not here for you. Not anymore. I'm not doing this anymore."

Rayna gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes. "But I love you, Deacon. It's always been you. You know that."

Deacon just looked at her for a moment. He hadn't expected that. It confused everything, especially after she'd essentially told him, not two weeks earlier, that he needed to get over her and move on with his life. He rubbed his hands over his face. When he looked back at her, his face was drawn and sad. "You know what, Rayna? I love you too. I'll always love you. I guess that's my curse. But I'm done waiting for you. I waited while you were married to someone else. And I waited while you got over the accident and tried to figure out if we could even be in the same room with each other again. And I even waited for a little while to see if you'd decide you'd made a mistake with Luke. But you were the one that told me I needed to stop waiting. So I did."

Rayna closed her eyes as the tears flowed down her cheeks. "I know I've messed this up." She opened her eyes and looked back at him. "I was wrong. I made the wrong choice. I knew it was wrong as soon as I did it but I couldn't figure out how to fix it."

Deacon shook his head. "That's crap, Rayna, and you know it. You rubbed it in my face the whole time. Cuddling up to Mr. Wheels Up all the time, acting like the starry-eyed princess getting ready to have all her dreams come true. I watched you sell out to all the crap me and you said we'd _never_ get caught up in. All for him. And don't even get me started on how I'm the man that made your life hell for all those years and how I'm just one bad day away from falling off the wagon." The article she'd done for _Rolling Stone_ still stung, the words still cut through his heart the same way they had when he'd first read them. And every single time after that.

She looked a little like the wind had been taken out of her sails. She sat down on the couch and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, her hands knotted together in front of her mouth. Deacon noticed then, randomly, that her dress really wasn't white, it was an off-white of some kind. "He twisted my words, Deacon, I told you that. That wasn't what I meant," she said.

He stood, watching her, for a few minutes. She almost seemed like she was out of it, like she wasn't really sure where she was or why she was there. "So does he know you ain't showing up?"

She looked up at him. "Yeah. I mean, I was supposed to be there at noon and, obviously, I'm not."

"Who else knows?"

"Well, everybody, now."

"No, I mean, when you decided to leave."

She shook her head. "No one. I had gotten dressed and the glam squad was in there doing my hair and makeup and the girls had been in and out. And Tandy. And a few other people. And then I just couldn't deal with people anymore." She looked up at Deacon. "I swear, I was sitting in front of that mirror and it felt like I was watching myself in a dream. And I looked so unhappy. And I felt sick to my stomach. So I made everyone leave. And then when they had, I got my keys and I just walked outside and got in my car and drove off."

"So nobody knew you did this?" Rayna shook her head. "And Luke would have just been standing up there waiting until someone told him you were gone?" Rayna nodded. Deacon looked at her for a minute and then he laughed. "I sure would love to have seen his face."

Rayna scrunched up her face. "I know it wasn't the right thing to do. But I really thought that if I tried to explain it to him, he would have told me that I just had pre-wedding cold feet, or something, and he would have guilted me into going through with it."

Deacon nodded. "I could see that. So, has anyone tried to contact you?"

She pulled her phone out of her clutch. "My phone's been going off until I got closer to here, where there's no service. So yeah, I've got messages and texts."

"Does Luke know how to get here?"

She thought about that. "Not all the way here. He might remember the highway route, but you know, you kind of have to know where to turn to get here. I don't think Tandy would even know how to get here anymore."

"What are you gonna do next?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't know now. I don't really want to go back right away."

"What about Maddie and Daphne?"

Rayna's face turned sad. "Well, they were going to stay with Teddy."

Deacon frowned a little as he thought. "You can stay here for right now, for a couple days, until you figure out what you want to do. I can go talk to the girls, if you want me to." He looked at her pointedly. "You look like you could use the time alone."

She stood up and grabbed his arm, looking panicked for a second. "Please don't leave me," she said softly.

He shook his head, laughing a little. "What is it you want me to do, Rayna? Hold your hand? Tell you it's gonna be alright? Fix it all for you?"

She frowned then. "No, that's not what I want you to do, Deacon," she said, her voice tight.

"Then I'll ask you again. Why are you here?" He enunciated each word carefully.

She sighed and turned to look out the sliding glass door she'd come in through. After a moment, she looked back at him, her eyes soft and pleading. "I needed you," she said. "I told you that. I love you, Deacon. From the first time I laid eyes on you. First time I heard you play a note on the guitar. First time I saw you smile. I know we put each other through hell, but I love you."

His heart was in his throat. Hearing her say those words, he could feel his resolve start to crumble. He steeled himself. While he was glad she'd walked away from Luke Wheeler, he knew she was in no shape to be making any other decisions. Part of him wanted to grab her up in his arms and kiss her hard and tell her it would be okay. That they would figure out everything else. But he forced himself to stop and consider the knowledge that there was a lot of water under their bridge, much more even than there was back before he'd found out she was hiding the truth about Maddie.

He took a deep breath. "I don't think you should be making no big decisions right now, Rayna. I mean, beyond the one you just made." She looked so lost, just standing there in front of him. She actually looked stunningly beautiful, in her wedding hair and makeup, wearing that beautiful dress, even with a coat over it and mascara running down her face. She was the most gorgeous being he'd ever known, always had been. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and looked back at her, feeling himself soften. "You want some tea or something?" he asked. "Are you hungry?"

She smiled then, a sad smile, as she seemed to realize what she'd done. "Tea would be great," she said.

He walked into the kitchen and, taking the tea pot from the stove, turned to the sink and filled it with water. He set it on the stove and turned on the gas, then turned back to her. She had walked up to the kitchen island and stood there, her hands folded on the counter in front of her. He gave her a tight smile. "You wanna change clothes?" he asked.

She looked thoughtful for a minute, then spread her hands out, with a rueful smile. "I didn't bring anything. I guess I'll just have to wear this." Then, suddenly, she burst into tears and lifted her hands to her face.

He hustled around the island and took her in his arms, rubbing her back. He'd always hated to see her cry. Most of the time he had been the one to make her cry, but at least this time that wasn't the case. He could feel her tears soaking his shirt as she clenched it in her fists. He kept rubbing her back as the sobs finally began to lessen and her breathing started to normalize. The tea pot started to sing and he pushed her back gently. She looked up at him and he smiled sadly. "Let me fix your tea," he said.

She nodded and went to sit on one of the stools. He opened the cabinet, pulling out a mug. He busied himself with putting a tea bag in the mug and pouring in hot water. He got out a spoon and sugar, remembering that's how she took her tea. He turned back and put everything on the counter in front of her and then watched as she picked up the tea bag, dipping it in the hot water over and over. It seemed to calm her.

He cleared his throat and she looked up at him. He shrugged. "Turns out you got some clothes here. Stuff you left," he said quietly.

She looked surprised. "I do?"

He nodded. "You, uh, you didn't come back, after the last time. I just left it all there."

She finally smiled a little. "Well, I guess it shouldn't surprise me it's still here then." He raised his eyebrows and she laughed a little, as she took the tea bag out of the mug. He reached for it and then threw it in the trash. He watched as she dipped her spoon in the sugar once, twice, just as he remembered. As she absentmindedly stirred, she looked back at him. "You're a creature of habit, Deacon Claybourne. Always were." She waved her hand around. "I mean, everything here is exactly the same. Everything at the house, exactly the same."

He frowned. "That ain't true."

She laughed, a little louder this time. He had missed her laugh. She had not laughed a lot during these months with Luke. "Oh, yes it is," she said. She took a sip of tea and then smiled, a genuine smile. "You never replaced anything until it no longer worked. You keep things forever. You never even rearrange furniture."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why throw away perfectly good things?" He put his hands on his hips and frowned. "And there ain't no reason to move stuff around just to, you know, move it. I _like_ where things are."

She took another sip of tea, then held the mug in both hands just under her chin. "I know. And it was one of the things I always found so endearing about you." She looked sad, suddenly. "No matter what, I could depend on things being the way they always were. It was comforting, you know, that normalcy."

He put his hands on the counter and breathed out. "What do you want from me, Ray?" he asked.

She sighed and then set the mug down on the counter. "I don't know," she said, a little wistfully. "I just, well, I just didn't know where else to go." He saw the tears in her eyes. "Or who else to turn to." She smiled sadly. "You're always the one I think of, when things get tough. I bet you didn't know that."

Oh, he knew it. He knew that was why they walked the bridge, or met at the park, or sat along the river. Or sometimes just sat in one of the meeting rooms at Sound Check. He knew she couldn't let go and it was part of the reason why he'd never been able to let go either. He looked down at the counter. It was how he'd known, truthfully, that she hadn't meant to say those things to the _Rolling Stone_ reporter. Because he knew she couldn't let go and that she understood why he couldn't either.

"Maybe," he said. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he frowned. "How did you know I was here?"

She shrugged. "Scarlett told me." He raised his eyebrows. "She just mentioned it. I didn't ask her. I figured it was to…get away from everything." He lifted his head in a subtle affirmation. She looked back at him. "Is that what it was? To get away?"

He picked up a dish cloth and rubbed at a nonexistent spot on the counter. "It just seemed like a good idea. Not be in the middle of it. Someone could ask questions." He hadn't thought that would happen, at least until the magazine article had come out. That had seemed to up the buzz about their former relationship. Reignited some of the chatter about the fact that they had been in his truck together that night of the accident. The night she'd almost died.

She pushed the mug away. "I'm sorry about the Rolling Stone thing. I felt horrible afterwards. After everything we'd gone through, you know, with what happened with Maddie. And the accident. I just felt like I'd taken one step too far and I hated myself for it."

He bit down on his lip. "You thought you needed to, you said."

She nodded. "He walked in on Maddie and Colt kissing, you know. There was already so much going on about her, with the video and everything, that I just couldn't put her in the spotlight again." She got teary again. "I just couldn't do that to her. I've already made so many mistakes when it came to her that I just couldn't let her get hurt."

He understood that. In the short time he'd been Maddie's father, he understood wanting to protect her, keep her safe, not let her be hurt. He'd been surprised at how quickly he'd made that transition, once they'd started spending time together, getting to know each other as a father and a daughter. All the love he'd had for her before had almost immediately grown exponentially. As much as he loved Maddie's mother, his love for their daughter had been powerful and consuming, yet different. He nodded. "I get it."

She wiped her eyes and then she looked around and back at him. "You said there were clothes here," she said.

He nodded towards the bedroom. "In there. In the dresser." She got up, then looked back at him awkwardly. "Go ahead." He watched as she walked towards the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. At least back in the days when they were together. Back before Teddy. Back before whatever happened that led to Maddie. Even though he knew she was sad and confused, he thought she looked stunning. As she walked to the bedroom, the off-white dress fluttered around her legs. He couldn't help but wonder if the day would ever come when he'd see her in a wedding dress on their wedding day.

He shook his head as though to empty his brain of those kinds of thoughts. He walked out of the kitchen. It was a chilly day and he picked up a jacket and shrugged it on, before opening the sliding doors and walking out onto the porch. He closed the doors behind him and walked to the edge of the porch, looking out over the lake. It was a sunny day, but it was a cold sunlight. The sky was very pale blue, almost to the point of being white. The wind was calm that day, so the lake looked like smooth glass.

He let his breath out in a whoosh and ran his fingers through his hair. It had been like a ghost had walked in, when he saw her standing there. She'd told him, in no uncertain terms, that Luke was the man for her, that they were done. Well, truthfully, she'd hadn't said that exactly. What was it she'd said? _It needs to be said, Deacon. I am getting married in two weeks. We've got to face the truth. I've moved on. You gotta move on too._ He wondered what it was that changed that. Because she'd been dead set on it from that point on. He didn't see her again. Not until he'd walked downstairs and found her in his living room.

He heard the sliding door then and turned, as she walked outside. She was wearing an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt, along with the coat she'd worn and a pair of white heels. The ones she'd worn for her wedding, he supposed. He looked down at them, then back at her, and smirked. "I guess you didn't have no shoes here," he said.

She made a face. "Evidently I took those with me." She laughed. "I seem to recall wearing a pair of boots whenever we came and I don't think I ever wore anything else. So it would make sense."

"I got socks. You could borrow them."

She smiled. "I may do that." She walked up to him and ran her hand down his back. "Thanks."

He frowned. "For what?"

"For not making me go home." The smile faded as she looked at him. "Did you mean it when you said I could stay here? 'Cause I think I need to. For a day or two, at least."

"What about the girls?"

She laid the back of her hand against his chest. "I don't know what to do," she said, her voice quiet. "Maybe I _should_ go back."

He breathed in. She was standing so close to him, not quite touching, except for her hand on his chest. He could feel the warmth there and he swallowed. "I ain't gonna make you go back," he said, finally, and she looked up at him. "I can drive you out to the highway. You can call 'em from there."

She smiled sweetly at him, a look of relief in her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured.

He felt like he couldn't breathe for a second and then he forced himself to be calm. She had just walked away from her wedding. The wedding she'd been ready for, to a man she claimed was the perfect man for her. He couldn't let himself be that guy, the one who was her rebound guy, even though he knew he'd never really be that. But she needed some time, even if she didn't think so. He raised his eyebrows. "You wanna go now?" he asked.

She stepped back. "Yeah, I probably should. The girls are probably worried." She made a face. "And Tandy too." She breathed out. "And Bucky. Well, a lot of people really."

"Well, let's go do it."

* * *

He glanced over at her as they drove down the road towards the interstate. One of the things he liked about the cabin was the isolation. The fact that, even in these days, it was outside of reliable cell service. She held her phone in her hands, but she kept flipping it around, gently bouncing her leg all the while. She was nervous, he could tell, or anxious. She wasn't usually the type to back down from things, but then this was something he'd always suspected she'd talked herself into. Just like with Teddy.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked at him. "I feel like I need to make amends, or something," she said.

He inclined his head slightly. "To Luke?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe." She smiled a little then. "I can't believe I actually ran away."

He chuckled softly. "Never figured you for a runaway bride," he said, with a smirk.

She laughed then and he almost saw the old Rayna. "I never thought I would be that bride." She sighed. "I was up all night, thinking about it all." She turned and looked out the window. "It really wasn't just one thing, you know? It was kind of a whole series of things." She turned back to look at him. "I didn't recognize my life anymore, Deacon." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, then turned towards him, her eyes filled with sadness. "I kept thinking about what it was like, back when we were starting out. Just love and the music. Playing those awful dive bars and honky tonks." She smiled. "You remember?"

He grinned, glancing over at her. "Oh, yeah. I remember."

She bit her lip. "I know there were a lot of hard times," she said, a catch in her voice. "I know it wasn't all perfect, the way I like to remember it. But it was good. Wasn't it?"

He felt a lump in his throat and he nodded. "It was."

She turned her head to look out the windshield and he could see her set her jaw. "But it was gonna be private jets and billboards and commercials and honeymoon tours and Ruke barbeque sauce."

He looked over. "Barbeque sauce?"

She laughed. "Oh, yeah. Luke has his own barbeque sauce. That whole branding thing. Oh, and the girls were talking about boarding school…."

He frowned. "Boarding school?"

"Oh, I put a stop to that notion right away. But it was just too much. I mean, I know that house Teddy and I built is kind of monstrosity in some ways, but I got to make it my own. It's a family home, Deacon, where a family can live and be happy." She looked at him again. "Maybe not quite the house we would have had."

He was glad they'd reached the interstate. He pulled into a closed up gas station and parked. "I think you got cell service here."

She looked down at her phone and then back at him with a sad little smile. "I do. I guess I should make that call."

He nodded. "Guess so." He turned off the truck and sat back. "I'll wait here."

* * *

He watched her as she paced the parking lot, phone to her ear, the other arm wrapped around her waist, and her head down. She was turned away from him, so he couldn't see her face. A couple times it looked like her shoulders were shaking, but then she'd straighten up.

He felt bad. It didn't seem like the call was going well. A big part of him wanted to comfort her, like he would. But she needed some time and he surely needed some time. He saw her look at her phone and could see, by her posture, that she was dejected. He forced himself to wait.

He watched as she made another brief call. This time she was standing up straight and she was animated, her hand and arm making sweeps of the air. Then she turned to walk back to the truck. He smiled a little to himself, watching her in the white heels and the fancy coat over her jeans. She clearly hadn't thought her escape through.

She opened the door and climbed in. When she looked at him, her face looked drawn. He raised his eyebrows. "Not good, I take it?" he asked.

She sighed and shook her head, looking down at the phone she was holding in her lap. "Not really," she said finally. She looked up and out the front windshield. "I mean, Maddie wasn't so upset. She wanted to know where I was though." She looked over at him, a sad smile on her face. "I didn't tell her. Just that I needed a couple days and they were fine with Teddy." Then the smile faded and her face fell. "But poor Daphne was so upset. She really loved Luke and it was harder on her. So I kind of feel bad now for running out on them."

"They'll be okay, Ray. They got each other."

She nodded. "I know. But I'm their mama. And I just upended their lives. Again." She looked at him again and smiled ruefully. "I had lots of messages and texts from Tandy and from Luke. Not good ones, obviously." She sighed. "I called Bucky and he'll manage things on his end. Just a really brief statement about how we just decided that we would say it was a mutual decision to call off the wedding."

He shook his head and then started to laugh. "You think he'll go along with that?" he asked her.

She smirked. "Oh, I don't know. He apparently hasn't gone public with it yet, so if we get our message out there first, then what's he gonna do? Call me a liar?" She shook her head. "He could, though. I hope he won't. But I do need to talk to him, at some point, explain things."

He looked out the windshield, working his lip, and breathed in. "Considering you came to me, you mind telling _me_ what made you decide this?"

She sighed. "A lot of things. I told you some of it. But, you know, Maddie and Daphne did that song you helped Maddie with, at the rehearsal dinner."

He turned to look at her. "Really?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, really. Imagine how that played, with Luke sitting beside me. And he wasn't the only one who wondered what _your_ motivation might have been."

He opened his eyes wide. "No motivation. Just helping my daughter write a song."

She made a face. "I don't believe that, you know. And you should also know it put the wheels in motion." She turned slightly towards him. "I had to really think about what I was doing, Deacon. And I think a lot of it came down to feeling guilty because I didn't choose…you, when I had the chance." He bit his lip, as he remembered that night in her kitchen, after Luke had proposed on stage at LP Field, in front of tens of thousands of people, when he had made his own pitch. It hadn't worked. She'd picked Luke anyway and, while he couldn't stop loving her, he certainly tried to put that aside, respect her decision. "I know you're angry with me. With what I said, the article and everything afterward, but I kept telling myself I needed a clean slate. I had married Teddy for all the wrong reasons and that hadn't turned out well, as you know. But I was marrying Luke with my eyes wide open, or so I thought. And with no encumbrances or baggage or…painful history."

"And yet, painful history and all, here you are."

She smiled, a little sadly. "Yeah, here I am." She looked down and then out the front window. "What did you think, when you saw me standing there?" she asked softly.

He considered that, as well as what to say. "At first I couldn't believe it was you standing there," he said, finally. "And I couldn't figure out why you came." He took a deep breath and then breathed out. "And I was mad as hell, 'cause it didn't have to be that way. _You_ were the one put us through all this."

She nodded, lowering her head. "I know."

She looked so fragile, right then. It had taken courage, he realized, for her to come find him and tell him all this. She'd been so sure about her path and now she was saying…well, she was saying it was all to avoid _him_. To _deny_ him. He had to consider the magnitude of that. Sure, it wasn't at the same level as marrying Teddy to deny him access to his daughter, but it was her pattern. And he didn't know if it was healthy, for either of them, to always be there waiting for her. He breathed in and then sighed. "I gotta think about all this, Rayna," he said. "I gotta think about that fact you keep pushing me away."

"But I'm not doing that now," she said, turning to look at him.

"You just ran off from your wedding. You didn't sleep last night. I think you need some time." She started to say something and he glared at her. She closed her mouth and frowned back at him. "It'd be too easy for us to fall back on old patterns, Ray. You know that. God knows I love you. I done told you I'd always love you and that's still true. But there's a lot of water under our bridge…."

She gave him a ghost of a smile. "Yes, there is," she said, looking at him pointedly. "And I know that you love me. That's the one thing I'll never _not_ believe."

He couldn't help but smile as he recognized her parroting back something he'd said to her back before everything that led up to the accident. "We gotta be sure, Rayna. And I don't think you're ready to be sure. Take the time." She just looked at him and he turned the key in the ignition. "Let's go back," he said, and she settled back against the seat and stared out the side window as he headed back to the cabin.

* * *

The ride back was quiet. The sun was setting and it was getting chillier. When they got in the house, he turned to look at her. She seemed a little lost and he found himself wanting to take her in his arms and tell her it would all be okay. _But would it?_ He breathed in. "Can I fix you something?" he asked.

She took off the fancy coat and draped it over a chair. She looked at him and shook her head. "I don't think so." She smiled. "I might take you up on a pair of your socks though." She held up one foot. "These shoes need to go."

He smiled back. "In the same drawer as always." She laughed softly. "I'm gonna go chop some wood for the fire. You be okay?"

She made a face. "I'm a big girl, babe. I can manage."

He nodded and then watched as she made her way into the bedroom. He breathed in, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets as she disappeared. Then he turned and headed out for the backyard.

As he split wood, he thought about what had transpired that afternoon. He had certainly not expected that Rayna would walk out on her wedding, particularly not at the last minute. He had to admit, though, that sometimes, when she didn't know he was looking, he'd see a pensiveness on her face or a cloud seem to cross her eyes, or even a little wistfulness about her. He certainly hadn't thought it had anything to do with her being unsure about her future with Luke. To the contrary, she had given him no indication she was anything but certain about that. Particularly that last time he'd seen her, when she'd come by his house to try to smooth things over in the aftermath of the _Rolling Stone_ article.

He'd been angry, for sure. It had been the one thing he'd thought he could count on with her, that when she'd said their private life was private, that she'd meant it. But there it was, in stark black and white. His alcoholism, his unreliability and the difficulties it caused her, the slow deterioration of their relationship in the wake of it all. And then her curious musing about his inability to move on. It had hurt. Stung, actually. Almost as much as it had when the truth had come out about Maddie. But this was the essence of them. Even after she'd broken up with him, moved out, and kicked him out of her band, they hadn't lost the essence of them.

He remembered the day the article came out. She'd desperately tried to reach him and then, because he couldn't ignore her when he took Maddie's Christmas gift over, she had tried to make amends. He hadn't let her though. No, he'd pushed back – hard – getting in her face about it. _Of course I want Deacon to move on. I want him to be happy. Why hasn't he? You'd have to ask him._ He clenched his jaw and slammed the axe down on the piece of wood. She knew why. She'd _always_ known why. She'd let him stay, all those years. She talked to him about things he knew she didn't talk to Teddy about. And yet she'd made it seem like he was the one hanging on.

He hated that it still hurt. He hated that she could still get to him. He hated that he still loved her. _Except I don't. Hate it, that is. I'll love her til the day I die._ He stopped what he was doing. He didn't know how long he'd been outside, but he'd chopped way more wood than he'd need and it was two shades from completely dark. He sighed, letting the tension ease out of his body. He slung the axe onto the stump and then picked up an armful of wood and headed up the steps.

He slid open the door and walked in. He unloaded the wood into the firewood rack and then turned around. Rayna was laying on the couch, her head on one of the cushions and the blanket covering her to her waist. She was sound asleep. He stood watching her for a moment. The tension had eased from her face and her mouth was just slightly open and her breathing was soft. He walked over and turned out the lamp next to the couch, the darkness covering her face. She frowned slightly, in her sleep, and tensed up slightly, then her face smoothed back out as she settled back down. He lifted the blanket gently and pulled it up close to her shoulders. Then he reached out and ran his fingers lightly over her hair. An aching sob seemed to well up in him and he breathed in deeply, willing it back down. Then he breathed out and turned to head for the kitchen.

* * *

The cabin had always been a little chilly in the winter. It was an old place and there were places around the windows and in the eaves where the little puffs of cold air would get in. So he went to the fireplace and worked to get a fire started. He thought back on all the times he and Rayna had been here, in this place, snuggling up with each other under a blanket in front of the fire. He breathed in. He'd missed that. In all the years he'd been without her, he'd missed the times they'd spent here. He'd bought this place for her, all those years ago, but when she had left for the last time, she'd never come back. Told him she didn't want the place. Too many memories.

He'd thought about selling it, but her essence was still in it, almost like a ghost roaming the rooms. He felt her in this place, every time he was here. He'd brought Maddie here and it had felt bittersweet, but he had never been able to give it up. It was the place he'd bought for him and Rayna, to spend their lives in, raising up their family. But that hadn't happened.

She was here now though. She'd been here twice before, both times recently, once with Luke, because she was afraid he'd come here to get drunk. And then after they'd faced the media about Maddie being their daughter. He frowned as he thought about sitting with Rayna and Teddy, essentially saying he'd known about Maddie all along and had let Teddy raise her. He could feel the bile rise up in his throat even now, just thinking about it. Rayna had driven up afterwards, to thank him. But she'd left after they'd had a fight over whose resentment was bigger.

Fighting seemed to be their MO. No matter what their relationship status. Friends, lovers, co-parents, and everything in between. It had just been one of the ways they talked to each other.

When he turned back around, she was sitting up on the couch, the blanket wrapped around her like a poncho, her hair all messy around her shoulders. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said.

She shook her head. "You didn't. I didn't mean to fall asleep but I guess I was more tired than I thought." She pulled the blanket a little closer around her. "I think the stress is getting to me a little."

He raised his eyebrows. "You hungry?"

She smiled. "Yeah, a little."

He walked into the kitchen and opened the pantry. He turned back, looking at her with a smirk. "I got canned spaghetti-o's," he said, inclining his head towards the can in his hand.

She laughed and he thought it was the first time since she'd shown up at his door that she'd looked like herself. "I'm not surprised you haven't changed your eating habits either," she said.

He chuckled. "Actually, I _do_ know how to cook some things but up here? This is easier."

She smiled broadly. "It'll be like old times then," she said.

He winked and then turned back to the stove.

* * *

After they ate, she started to nod off again. He cleared his throat and she opened her eyes. "So, you look like you need a good night's sleep," he said.

She nodded and pushed herself up from the couch. "I can get a pillow and another blanket and sleep out here," she said.

He shook his head, frowning. "Nah, I can do that. You take the bedroom. More comfortable."

"Deacon, it's okay," she said.

"You need the sleep."

She sighed. "Okay. I won't argue."

He followed her to the bedroom. He saw the wedding dress wadded up and pushed into a corner of the closet, but he didn't say anything. He got a couple pillows and a heavier blanket, along with his toothbrush. He turned at the door and looked back at her as she stood in the middle of the room, looking a little forlorn. "Sleep as late as you want," he said.

She nodded and then she gave him a tiny smile. "Thanks, Deacon," she said softly.

He gave her a small smile in return, then closed the door behind him. As he walked out to the great room, all he could think about was the fact that she was in this house, _their_ house, just on the other side of a door. She'd come here for him, to be with him, and he was telling her no. He considered that this was probably the first time he'd turned her away. Back when she was a naïve, innocent sixteen year old, when he should have turned her away, he hadn't. He'd fallen in love with her at first sight and he'd taken her in when her father threw her out and he had vowed he'd never let her go. But he had, of course, not by choice, but by circumstance. And now she was back. After all those years, she was back.

It wasn't the first time, of course, because there was the night she'd shown up on his front porch in Nashville, vowing her love. But that was when she was hiding a secret from him, a secret that literally turned their world upside down and had threatened to end them forever. But she was back and he didn't really know what to do with that this time. As he stretched out on the couch, punching his pillows and pulling up the blankets, he hoped a good night's sleep would help clear his mind as well.


	2. Chapter 2

He could hear her shuffle across the floor. He had only slept in fits and starts all night, conscious as he was of her being in the bedroom. But he willed himself to be still, to keep his breathing even and shallow, even though his heart was beating out of his chest.

He knew she was standing next to the couch. He could feel her presence, smell the light citrus-y perfume she wore now, different from the floral scents she wore when they were first starting out. He remembered when she changed, after Daphne was born. _Something about my hormones, I guess. It made me nauseous._ She hadn't had to tell him, but she did. Just like she'd kept telling him those mundane things, the minutiae of life. He'd been more circumspect, but then he always had. Part of that was that it was just his way, but he'd somehow known it wasn't an equal share. She needed to not know those things about him. And although he would have liked to tell her she should stop telling him, he really hadn't wanted her to.

"Deacon?" she whispered. He wanted to open his eyes but he didn't. He kept still. After a moment, she sighed quietly and then he heard her shuffle back to the bedroom and close the door. He opened his eyes then, flicking them around the dark room. The fire was nearly out, just a few orange embers left. The moon was bright and the light bounced across the lake and into the great room, muted slightly by the sheer curtains across the sliding doors. The plates they'd used for the spaghetti-o's were still on the coffee table. The blanket she'd used to wrap herself up against the chill was still strewn across the chair. He felt tears prick his eyes. His heart hurt. He wanted her so badly. But he also knew he needed to be cautious. She was fragile and he knew she needed some healing time, even if she didn't know that yet herself.

He closed his eyes again, wondering if she was lying awake in the bed in the other room – _their_ bed – thinking about him. Finally he fell into an unsettled sleep.

* * *

When he woke it was light, that watery white light so common in winter. He felt a little stiff and stretched out. Then he flung off the blanket and got up. He laid a new fire and then opened the curtains. It was a clear day, but blustery, he could tell. The trees were bending and twisting and the wind was whipping up the water on the lake. He wondered if Rayna would go back to Nashville. She needed to face up to what she'd left behind, and normally she would do that, but she seemed hesitant. She was more uncertain about things than he thought he'd ever seen. At least where this one thing was concerned.

He supposed walking out on a wedding was a big deal. To be all dressed, with guests all ready and a big party planned for afterwards, and then just get up and walk out and drive away was unlike her. It wouldn't have surprised him for her to have gone to tell Luke first thing in the morning. The other man would probably still be angry, but at least they'd have had time to let people know. If he were honest, he'd thought she might do this. But he also thought it would have happened long before and he'd given up thinking she would.

 _I don't know how you live your life this way._ He breathed in and stuck his hands in his pockets as he continued to look out over the lake. She had turned into someone he didn't know. She had become exactly what they'd always said they would never become. It had been like a heightened version of her life with Teddy and he really hadn't understood it. She wasn't the Rayna he'd loved, the Rayna he still loved. He wondered if she had finally realized it herself. He was pretty sure it had to be that. He knew Maddie was struggling with it. She loved her mama and wanted her to be happy, but she had felt confused and disconnected, and he hadn't known what to say to her about it.

He heard water running and he turned his head towards the bedroom. _Rayna must be up._ He turned and went to the kitchen, setting up the coffee, and then getting things out for eggs and bacon.

* * *

He was finishing up the eggs when she walked out of the bedroom. Her hair was still wet, lying damply down her back. She was wearing the same jeans from the day before, but he recognized one of his own flannel shirts, hitting her mid-thigh. His stomach turned over. He'd always loved her wearing his shirts. She smiled shyly. "I thought I smelled your famous eggs and bacon," she said.

He smiled back, snickering just a little. "One of things I still cook good," he said. "You hungry?"

She nodded. "Very." She walked over and climbed up on one of the stools at the island. He got a plate down and fixed it for her, sliding it across the counter. Then he fixed one for himself and leaned against his side of the island as they ate. After her first bite, she smiled. "Still as good as I remember."

He nodded. They ate quietly for a few minutes and then he looked at her. "So what's your plan?"

She looked up and raised her eyebrows. "For today?" He nodded. She shrugged. "I don't know." She set her fork down and clasped her hands in her lap. "I don't think I'm ready to go back yet." She sighed. "Do you mind?"

He frowned. "You sure? Ain't you just postponing the inevitable?"

She made a face. "Yeah, probably. But can you understand why I might not be ready to face that yet?"

He set down his fork and pushed back from the island. "See, that's the part I don't get, Ray," he said. "I mean, I never knew you to be afraid to face anybody. Or anything. I don't get this."

She slid off the stool and wandered into the great room, then turned back to face him, her arms crossed. "I don't know how to explain it, Deacon. I'm just not ready to, you know, talk to him. Explain it to him."

He put his hands on his hips. "But why? How hard can it really be, Rayna, to just tell the guy you changed your mind?"

She breathed out. "Because it's not that simple."

He shook his head. "I don't get it. How complicated you wanna make it?"

She frowned and then waved her hands in front of her face. "I've got a lot to sort through, Deacon!" she shouted. "It's not as simple as walking away. It's _me_! It's what's inside _me_!" Then she turned and stormed off towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

He watched her, shaking his head, and then putting his hands to his head, whirled around in complete confusion. _I don't understand her at all._

* * *

He was sitting on the couch reading when she walked back in, later in the morning. He looked up at her as she rounded the couch and sat down on the opposite end. He set the book down and took off his reading glasses, laying them beside the book. Then he sat back and waited.

"When did you start wearing glasses?" she asked.

He felt a little self-conscious, for some reason. "I don't know, maybe a year ago. Just reading glasses, though. Couldn't read music up close," he said.

She smiled, then looked over at the book. She sat forward and picked it up. She looked back at him. "And reading." She looked amused.

He smiled back. "I always liked to read. Just didn't have time before."

She looked at the book again. "Duane Allman." She flicked her eyes back at him. "I remember someone saying you were as good as he was."

"It would be an honor to be half as good."

She put the book back down on the coffee table. "You do know you're considered a guitar master, right?" He shrugged. He still was not good with praise, even from her. "Seriously, babe, you're the best. Everyone knows that." She nodded towards the book. "Is it good?"

He shrugged. "Interesting. His daughter wrote it and she never really knew him, so it was her way of knowing more about him." He breathed in. "He had an interesting life. Not always good." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So what's going on, Rayna?"

She drew her legs up and hugged them to her chest. She breathed in deeply and then rested her chin on her knees. Her eyes had a sadness he hadn't seen there in a long time. "I keep making the same mistakes over and over again, in my life," she said, her voice quiet. "And I've got to change the story, you know?" She looked at him, as if looking for affirmation.

He swallowed. "What story, Ray?" he asked.

" _My_ story. I need to be the person I am, the person I've always been." She bit her lip and looked down for a minute, then back at him. "You know, I think back to who I was, back when I was sixteen, with the whole world in front of me." She looked at him with a coy smile. "And I met you…."

He shook his head and scowled. "You can't make this about me, Rayna," he said tersely.

The smile left her face. "I'm not. But you changed something in me, Deacon. I wasn't at all sure what I was looking for back then, except that I knew I wanted to stand on a stage and sing. But _you_ taught me about my voice, _you_ helped me find who I was as an artist. And as a person. There was passion between us, yes, but there was passion in the music, passion in the way we lived life. And I've lost that." The sadness was back on her face. "I lost that when I made the decision to marry Teddy and live that life."

He looked at her incredulously and then let go with a sharp, cynical laugh. "You didn't have to make that choice, Rayna. You know that." He looked pointedly at her.

She nodded. "I _do_ know that, but see, the thing is, I never felt like I _had_ a choice. Not really. This all started back then, you know. I was trying to have a life without drama, without pain, without fear. I was a wreck back then, Deacon. I'm not sure you really grasp what it was like for _me_ back then. I mean, you told me you understood you were a mess…."

He put his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. "I _do_ know that, Rayna."

"But you don't know what it was like for _me_ , Deacon." The sharpness and anger in her voice made him look back at her. "I was living a life I'd never dreamed I would. I lived every day wondering if you'd stay sober. And if you didn't, would you come home. Or would I find you in jail. Or a hospital. Or worse." He heard a slight quiver in her voice. "Living life that way is _hard_. It takes so much out of you. It _destroys_ you." He could see her fighting the tears and watched as she breathed in slowly. "I know it was hell for you. But it was hell for me too. I stayed, though. For a long time, I stayed. I tried to help you, to fix you, to be there to support you, through some of the worst times. I protected you." She took a deep ragged breath. "I _loved_ you," she whispered.

His heart ached as he listened. It wasn't that he didn't know how bad it was for her. He did. He knew he'd tried her patience, knew she'd gone to the mat a thousand times on his behalf. He'd thought she would always be there. Then she wasn't. And while he understood it in his head, his heart still struggled. "But then you didn't," he said. She looked away. "I mean, I get it, Rayna, but it's like you been living two lives all this time. You were the Rayna I knew when you was on stage, but nowhere else, really."

She looked back at him, a haunting sorrow on her face. "You're right," she said softly. "But I had to protect my heart."

He sat up. "You keep saying that. So you did what then?"

She shrugged and then laid her chin back on her knees. "Put everything in a box," she said. "Put it up on the highest shelf I could find."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. He turned his head towards her. "You ever think you made a mistake?"

She bit her lip. "I couldn't let myself think that way. There was too much at stake for me to think that way." He could see tears filling her eyes. "And Teddy was a good man. Then. He was a good provider and a good…partner."

He knew what she wanted to say, that he was a good husband and a good father, the things she knew would pierce his heart. And they would have. They did anyway. He regretted that he couldn't have been the man she'd needed back then. It was, without a doubt, the biggest regret of his life. If he had only known what he was losing. And then he realized it probably wouldn't have mattered, back then. He would have wanted it to matter, but in those days he couldn't conquer the call of the whiskey bottle. He lowered his head. "I wish I coulda been that for you then," he said. He wasn't ready to go down that road yet, though, so he breathed in sharply and then looked at her. "What'd you do with that big, fancy ring?"

She blinked twice. "Left it on the vanity table," she said. "Next to the flowers."

"Didn't leave no note or nothing?"

She shook her head. "I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to get out and I, well, I just didn't think about anything but that."

"When did you decide to come here?"

"Um, after I got in the car. I guess, first of all, I just wanted to get away. And then I thought about the fact that people would come try to find me if I went home, and I remembered Scarlett saying you were here, so that's when." She tilted her head slightly. "I wasn't really surprised that you came here. I figured you'd want to get away from everything that was going on around the wedding."

He gave her a bitter smile. "I come here a lot, Rayna. You know that. I don't need no particular reason."

"But you came here to be away from the publicity." She said it more as a statement than a question.

He worked his lip and looked away from her. "I guess," he said, finally. It was true. As soon as they had finished that last show in Memphis, the last one in his obligation to open for Luke Wheeler, of all people, he had driven back to Nashville. Told Scarlett he was going to the cabin, packed back up and left. But now Rayna was here, not on her honeymoon, as she would have been if she'd gotten married the day before the way she was supposed to. But it wasn't his reasons for coming here that were the issue. He turned back to face her. She was now sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking up at him. "This ain't about _me_ , though, Rayna," he said.

She made a face. "I know."

He didn't know what to say then. She was here and that was making it hard for him to keep his head clear. Finally he cleared his throat. "I'm gonna clean up," he said and stalked off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

When he finally came out of the bedroom, the great room was empty. "Rayna?" he called out. There was no answer. He walked around and up the stairs, checking out the bedrooms there, but she was nowhere to be found. When he came back downstairs, he realized her coat wasn't laying where she'd left it and he opened the sliding doors, walking out onto the porch. The chilly wind made him wrap his arms around himself as he started down the porch. That's when he realized her car was gone.

He felt surprisingly disappointed.

* * *

He was rooting around in the pantry for something to eat when he heard the sliding door open. He straightened up and turned around. The relief and joy that ran through his body when he saw her happened before he could steel himself. She had a couple bags in her hand.

"I went and got some better food," she said, with a smile.

He smiled, in spite of himself, glad to see she hadn't left for good. "Thought you was gone," he said.

She shrugged as she walked to the island and set the bags down. "I'm sorry. I should have left you a note or something, I guess." She smirked and then she started to unpack the bags. "I thought I remembered a little market up the road and luckily it was still there. I got things for sandwiches and I also bought some chicken." She slid the package across the counter. "If you could put it in the fridge." He reached for it and then did as she asked. "And salad makings."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you're staying?"

She nodded. "I think we need to talk. _I_ need to talk." She shrugged again. "And it's helping, Deacon, being here. Being away from whatever's happening back in Nashville. No one knows where I am and I kinda like that. I can go back when I'm ready."

"I guess." As grateful as he was that she hadn't just left without a word, as inexplicably glad he was she was still here, he also recognized that it confused things, complicated things. What he _wanted_ to do and what he _needed_ to do were still all mixed up. She was here, unencumbered and open to him, and he was keeping her at arms' length. It felt unsettling.

She walked around the island and stood facing him. "I'll make lunch." She smirked. "Unless you've already had one of your canned things."

He had to smile. "Nah, I ain't had nothing." He stepped back, lifting his hands up in surrender. "Have at it then. The kitchen's yours."

She smiled and then went about fixing sandwiches, while he relit the fire. They ate on the couch as the fired roared in front of them, in silence. He tried not to look at her and he thought she was doing the same. The electricity in the room was practically crackling, just like the fire, and he could almost hear a hum in the air. When they were both done, she picked up his plate and took everything back into the kitchen, setting it down in the sink. Then she came back and took her place on the other end of the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her.

"You were right, you know," she said finally.

He turned to look at her. "About what?"

She looked down at her lap, as she picked at the edge of the flannel shirt. "That I could have made different choices."

"What would you have done different?"

She looked up at him, the hint of a knowing smile on her face. He'd asked her that once before, back when they were still pretending to just be friends, when he was her bandleader and she was, supposedly, happily married. Before they sang at the Bluebird together for the first time in nearly fifteen years and cracked open that delicate façade they'd crafted together. She changed positions, sitting cross-legged. "Everything," she said softly, echoing her answer from before. "Most everything," she qualified. She sighed. "I actually tried to change everything, back when I married Teddy. I thought that if I did it all differently, made different choices, took a different path, that I could fix everything that had gone wrong. Everything that felt like it had blown up in my face." Sadness crossed her face then. "It wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't what I'd dreamed of. But, you know, it was what I was left with and I was determined to make it work."

He breathed in. "Was it worth it? In the end?"

She grasped her ankles and leaned forward slightly, then shrugged. "I don't know." She looked up. "That's not completely true." She let a soft smile cross her face. "Having Daphne was worth it. All the rest of it? It depends."

"What parts?"

She looked serious. "Having peace in my life was worth it, Deacon. I was exhausted. It wasn't a bad choice, you know. Teddy was a good man, he was a good father. He was there when I needed something solid. Some _one_ solid. A place to land, to regroup, to figure out the rest of my life." She raised her eyebrows. "It was a way to make sure Maddie was okay." He looked away then. "You know, I do wish there had been a way, a way to tell you then. Or later. I'm really not completely heartless in that regard." He looked back at her. "It was impossible then, Deacon. If it had been just me, I might have made different choices. But I had a child to think about, and now that you know her, wouldn't you have done the same?"

He considered that. It was hard to imagine there being a situation where he couldn't depend on Rayna. She had always been there, he'd never not been able to count on her. He looked up at her. "I don't know," he said. "I wanna think I'd done it different, but I don't know."

"I guess you can't know until you're in it," she said.

"Were you happy, Ray?" She looked at him questioningly. "Was your life happy?"

She seemed to be thinking that over. Finally she nodded. "Overall, yes. I guess I should say I wasn't _un_ happy. It was…normal. Or what I always thought normal would be. We were a family. We ate dinner together, put the girls to bed together and read with them. We had movie nights as a family. It was all the things I'd wanted. It was the way I thought family would be. Except…." She stopped.

"Except what?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. It was easy, mostly. Teddy and I didn't fight, didn't disagree about much. I still had my music and that helped. But I love being a mama, Deacon. I love taking my girls to school and fixing their lunches and being there for their recitals. I love just spending time with them. That part was everything I ever thought it would be. And so much more."

He sighed. "Sounds to me like you wouldn't change nothing then."

She looked surprised and shook her head. "That's not true." She got up then and walked over to the fire, holding her hands out to warm them. He watched, looking at her still wearing his flannel shirt, her feet in his socks. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail and she had no makeup on. She didn't look like the Rayna Jaymes who stood on a stage and poured her heart out in song, intent on pleasing her audience. Or the Rayna Jaymes who'd shown up on his porch in a coat that covered a wedding dress, her hair piled on her head and in full makeup. This woman, warming herself by the fire, this was the real Rayna, the one he knew best. The one he loved more than his own life. "I would have told you about Maddie," she said quietly. "I would have waited for you. I would have made that life with you we always talked about." She turned to face him then, her hands grasped behind her. "But I couldn't do the one thing that would have made all that possible."

His eyes burned with tears he refused to show her. "And what was that?"

"I couldn't save you," she whispered. "I couldn't make you well. I couldn't do the one thing that would make you want to save yourself. So I had to let you go. At least that's the only way I thought I could help you."

He couldn't speak. He felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest and he could scarcely breathe. He got up then, picked up his jacket, and walked outside.

* * *

He stayed in the shed for a long time, cleaning his tools, reorganizing things. Anything to keep from sitting in that house with her. There were no easy answers for them. There was so much hurt on both sides. He had often wondered, over the years, if he'd hurt her too much. He had wondered if, all those years ago, he'd been the worst thing that had ever happened to her, instead of the best, as she'd said then. They'd spent so many years apart, after they had nearly destroyed each other being together, and he'd wondered sometimes if he could ever make it up to her. Then, after he'd found out about Maddie, he'd wondered if she could ever make it up to him. But in many ways, it no longer mattered. They'd both done terrible things to each other. They'd both made awful mistakes. They had both protected themselves. She had married Teddy, he had buried his heart. She'd almost married Luke, but now she was here.

When he walked back outside, the sun was setting and the wind had picked up again and it was cold. He went up the steps and walked into the house. She was sitting in the middle of the couch, her back to him, but she didn't turn around. He stood there for a moment, then shed his jacket and walked around to sit next to her. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his legs, and he rubbed his hands over his mouth, staring at the fire.

He heard her draw in her breath and then she spoke. "You know, I came up here because I wanted you to know I was ready." Her voice was steady and low. He turned to look at her. "I've loved you since I was sixteen years old. From the moment I first laid eyes on you. I loved you in spite of everything we did to each other. People wondered why I stayed and I never understood why they didn't know it was because, in spite of everything, I _loved_ you. But I wasn't immune to the pain and the hurt and eventually it wore me down to the point that the love wasn't enough anymore. I spent a lot of years feeling like I had to protect myself from all that pain and it was why I stayed married to Teddy and kept that distance from you. And I was gonna marry Luke, because, even though a lot has changed, and _you_ have changed, I was still afraid of the pain. But I was really doing the same thing again, protecting myself, thinking I couldn't do that again, even though I wanted to. I thought that if I made a different choice, I wouldn't have the pain."

He felt a lump in his throat. "I never meant to cause you that pain," he said. "If I could do it over…."

She nodded. "I know." She looked down and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Then she looked back at him. "But, you know, it occurred to me, sometime between the end of the rehearsal dinner and sitting in that chair looking at myself in that mirror, that even with all the pain and heartache back in the beginning, I was really living my life. That I had what I wanted then, even if it wasn't always playing out the way I'd hoped. I had love, I had music, I had this magical life." She smiled a little. "I had you." She turned sideways, so she was facing him. "I came here to tell you that I want us to be together, the way we were always meant to be. I don't want to be afraid anymore. Or maybe I just want to do it anyway."

He could feel his resistance start to crumble, but he couldn't let go just yet. "How come it took this long, Rayna? I mean, you've known how I felt, all these years, yet you kept pushing me away. And now you're here, but we been on this road before. How do I know you ain't gonna do the same thing again?"

She breathed in. "I guess we have to trust each other," she said. "I don't know how else to do it."

She slid over and leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. He reached for her hand and closed his own around hers. Then she put her other hand on his bicep and sighed. He felt spent and he wondered if she did too. They'd aired out so much and he wondered what was left. Then he found himself concentrating on how she felt. The warmth of her hand in his, the gentle pressure of her head against his shoulder, and just her nearness. They were just so much a part of each other. He didn't know where he ended and she began. _You and music, there's no difference, you know. It's the same._ She'd said that to him, but it was true for him as well. Rayna and the music were the same. _She's everything._ That's what had brought them together in the beginning and it often seemed it was what held them together, made it so they couldn't let go. He sighed and she shifted against him.

He didn't know how it started but he knew he'd made a sound of acquiescence and she'd let out what sounded almost like a sob or maybe a moan. Suddenly she was in his lap and her arms were around his neck and his were around her waist. Her lips were pressed to his. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest and he pulled her closer. Her mouth opened to his and they were practically devouring each other.

When they finally came up for air, her eyes looked a little wild and her lips were slightly parted. He was breathing hard as he looked into her eyes. He felt her fingers snake into the hair on the nape of his neck and he felt like he was on fire. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. "I love you, Rayna." His voice sounded hoarse.

"I love you, Deacon." Her voice sounded like a whisper on the back of a sob.

Everything after that seemed like it was on fast forward and slow motion at the same time. He moved her back against the couch, kissing her lips, her neck, her cheeks, nibbling on her earlobe. She pushed up the back of his shirt and he felt her hands against the skin on his back. He felt her beneath him and all he really wanted then was to feel her skin on his, feel himself inside her as she wrapped herself around him. What he remembered most, after that, was the sound of pleasure she made as they came together on the blanket in front of the fire and finally gave in to one another.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up, wondering if he'd been dreaming. He smelled her citrus-y smell, felt the velvet of her skin against his where he spooned her, and he knew he wasn't. Part of him wondered why it had taken this long, until her second night here, and part of him wondered if they'd been too hasty. But he knew the latter wasn't true. It had been inevitable, from the moment he'd seen her, standing there waiting for him at the door.

There had been a moment, when he'd wondered if he had given in too quickly. She was sleeping and he was lying there, awake, thinking she might should have taken some time, to regain her bearings, re-center herself. She was headstrong though, always had been, and she'd always been sure of what she wanted, not letting anything stop her. It was one of the things he'd loved about her, but it had also been one of the things that had caused the most friction between them. She was a force of nature and it had often felt like she had called the shots, in their relationship together.

But then she had made a little noise in her sleep, unconsciously snuggling closer against him and he was lost again, in her smell, the softness of her skin, just the feel of her. He acknowledged to himself that he didn't want to be anywhere else, with any other woman. She was everything to him. Without her music didn't mean anything, nothing meant anything. He'd disappointed her so many times, but here she was. In his arms. In his bed. And it felt right.

It was always like muscle memory for the two of them. He remembered thinking the same thing, that night she'd stood on his front porch and told him she loved him, that she'd never _not_ loved him. It hadn't been as long this time. He was surprised to realize it had been just over a year since the last time they'd been together. It was one of the many ways they'd known each other so completely, so instinctively. Still was.

He moved his hand, letting it settle on her bare breast. When he moved his thumb to strum her nipple, she stirred, arching her back so that her bottom pressed against him. She made a purring noise and then she slid her leg up and over his. He moved slightly and then slid inside her, moaning softly at how good she felt. She made another noise, a little louder this time, urging him on, but he took his time with her, until she was nearly weeping with her need.

When, finally, they had both felt release, they lay completely entwined with each other, until their breathing slowed and their hearts were beating normally. He leaned in and kissed her gently, just behind her ear, and she purred softly, nestling closer to him. He pulled her in, his hand flat against her abdomen, and sighed with contentment, drifting back to sleep.

* * *

He was standing in the kitchen when she came out of the bedroom. She smiled shyly at him. "Hey."

He smiled back. "Hey." She walked over to him and put an arm around his waist, leaning into his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "You sleep okay?" he asked.

She leaned her head back and smiled. "Absolutely. You?"

He grinned. "Best sleep in a while." He brushed her lips with a kiss, then stepped out of the embrace, busying himself with pouring coffee. "I think we need to talk though," he said, not looking at her.

She leaned against the counter next to him and frowned. "I thought we did," she said.

He paused for a second, then handed her a mug. He took a sip from his, then looked at her. "Last night was amazing, baby," he said and she smiled softly. "But we're here, away from everything. You still got stuff to fix when you get back, and you and me? We gotta figure out what this means."

She breathed in. "I know what it means, Deacon," she said firmly. "It means I'm back where I want to be. Where I _need_ to be." She raised her eyebrows. "Have you changed your mind?"

He shook his head. "Nah. But I gotta think about _you_. And the girls. All of this."

"Maddie will be over the moon," she said, with a sly smile.

"Maybe," he said. "But you don't know what you're walking back into."

She pushed away from the counter and walked into the great room, ending up standing by the fire. He stayed where he was and just watched her. He could feel an ache for her. After spending a long night feeling free to love each other again, the last thing he wanted was to be apart from her. But she'd just walked away from a wedding. He didn't want her to end up regretting her impulsive move.

She turned back to face him. "Yes, I do have a lot to deal with when I get back. When _we_ get back. But we'll do it together. You'll be right there, with me. Right?"

He walked over to her and took the mug out of her hand, setting it on the coffee table. Then he took her in his arms and held her close. She gripped his arms tightly and looked up at his face. Without all the makeup and the fancy hairdo's, she looked so much like the fresh-faced teenager he'd met more than twenty-five years earlier. With the stress of running out on her wedding behind her and a couple nights of sleep – and lovemaking – she looked refreshed. She looked happy, joyful. She glowed. His heart felt full as he looked at her. "Yeah, 'course I will," he said. He leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead. He laughed softly then and she frowned a little. "I keep thinking about you standing there" – he nodded towards the door – "looking all frazzled, in your fancy dress, telling me you'd left. I thought you was a ghost for a minute. I thought I'd lost you. For good. And then there you were."

A smile played on her lips. "And you kept telling me no, as I recall," she said. She slid her arms around his waist. "And I understand." Her face turned serious. "But I love you, babe. I don't want to pretend anymore. I want us to figure this out, for good this time."

He breathed in as he ran his hands up her back. He reached up a hand to smooth her hair off her face. "What are you gonna do when we get back? What's your plan?"

She scrunched up her face. "I need to talk to Luke. Explain, if I can. If he'll let me. And be with my girls."

He kissed her on the forehead. "I think you need to do all that first. Let's not complicate it any more than that." He sighed. "I think I might oughta give you a little time to do that on your own."

She frowned. "What are you saying? That you're not doing this with me?"

He shook his head. "I ain't saying that, baby. I'm just saying you need to fix things first. Without me in the way."

"No. I want you to come back with me." She stepped out of his arms. "In fact, I'm not going back without you."

He put his hands on his hips. "Rayna…."

She shook her head. "No, Deacon. I'm not going back to Nashville without you. From this point on, we're doing this together. I don't care what other people think or what other people say or what gets written in a tabloid…."

He stepped towards her and pulled her into his arms, kissing her hard. He could tell he'd taken her by surprise at first, but then he felt her relax into his arms, sliding hers around his back, returning the kiss with as much passion as his own. He didn't want to let go of her, didn't want to have her be apart from him for one more second. "You drive a hard bargain," he murmured against her lips.

She laughed softly. "I just know what I want." She pulled back and smiled up at him, then took his hand. He just chuckled to himself as he let her lead him towards the bedroom. She looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled coyly. "I'm not ready to go back yet," she purred.

He pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her as she giggled. He kissed her on the neck and she closed her hands over his, lifting up her shoulders slightly as she snuggled against him. "I ain't ready neither, baby," he whispered. Then, as he pushed her towards the bedroom, he wondered when he would ever be ready to leave this place. Now that she was back, he wasn't letting her go.

* * *

The room was dark. He looked around in the dim light and smiled a little. She was right. Everything was just the same as when she'd left it. And now they'd come full circle, back here in the place he'd bought for them to live out the rest of their lives, the place where they would grow old together. She stirred against him and he pulled her close.

"This is gonna be it this time, isn't it?" she asked, her voice tinged with sleepiness.

He hugged her close and she grabbed his arms. "Yeah, I think so."

"Things have just never been easy for us, have they?" she asked.

"No, they haven't."

"You know, I think maybe everything happened the way it needed to, for us."

He thought about that. "Yeah. Maybe if we'd figured it all out back then, we'd have thrown each other away by now."

She rubbed her thumb along his arm. "All I know is that I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere again. Not ever."

He chuckled softly. "You better not. 'Cause I ain't either."

She rolled over in his arms to face him. She laid her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes, a tiny smile on her lips. "Thank you. For this. For not sending me away or leaving me here alone. Thank you for sticking with me on this. Going the distance."

He smiled and then kissed her gently on the lips. "We been on a long road, baby. I guess sometimes I wasn't sure we'd ever get it right, but we did. We broke through."

She nodded. "We did. And I'm gonna stay with you forever now. No matter what. Forever and always."

He kissed her again. "Forever and always." Then he let his hands slide down over her skin and his lips got insistent and he let himself fall back into her again. The way he knew he would now, for the rest of his life.

 _In your arms I can still feel the way you  
Want me when you hold me  
I can still hear the words you whispered  
When you told me  
I can stay right here forever in your arms_

 _And there ain't no way  
I'm lettin' you go now  
And there ain't no way  
And there ain't no how  
I'll never see that day_

 _Cause I'm keeping you  
Forever and for always  
We will be together all of our days  
Want to wake up every  
Morning to your sweet face always_

" _ **Forever and For Always" by Shania Twain**_


End file.
